Disclaimer: I do not own Samurai 7 or any of the characters contained therein

A/N: I'm sorry for the relatively shorter chapter, but this encompasses most of Kirara's thoughts ONLY, with not much plot advancement, mostly backstories and the like. With that being said, here we go, Chapter 2!

Chapter 2: Kirara

From her house close to the centre of the village, she heard the commotion, and as any ordinary villager would, she went to see its cause, since excitement hardly ever came to a village like Kanna any longer. Not since the Nobuseri were defeated here. Because of the reputation of the seven samurai who had defeated the Nobuseri, no one dared to even think of raiding their village, much less launch a frontal assault on it. Nowadays, the village looked as much a farming village as a castle, and the farmers themselves walked taller, their soldiering halves having become as much of them as their farming halves. Every single villager knew how to use the bow, as farmers taught their sons and daughters how to protect themselves, passing on the skills of marksmanship like they passed on the art of cultivating rice, ensuring that Kanna would never again be oppressed or taken unawares, by humans or Nobuseri alike.

Her eyes travelled from villager to villager as she made her way towards the source of the villagers' excitement, looking for someone she knew personally, like Shino or Rikichi, so she could find out what was actually going on. Not that anyone would not tell her if she asked, but she would rather it be them, since she had grown up with the daughter of Manzo, the two of them having shared so much together, so as to have a relatively close bond with one another, and having gone to Kouga with Rikichi all those years ago, she had found that she could trust him with her thoughts, and after all, hadn't they all been through almost the same horrifying experiences together?

Neither one of them were anywhere to be seen, so she made her way towards the general source of everyone's attention, rarely having to push her way past someone, as everyone made way for one of the village's own heroes, as herself, Rikichi and Komachi were regarded as now. She then saw why she could not find Rikichi in the crowd. He was there in the distance, across the bridge, bent almost double, carrying what looked like a deformed person on his back, with Komachi walking on his left, shouting words of encouragement, pumping her fists and generally, being Komachi, and Sanae on his right, coaxing him on as she wiped his brow with her handkerchief with every bit of grace that a court lady would possess.

"Guess old habits die hard," Kirara mused, aware that once upon a time, Rikichi had given her up to the Nobuseri to save their village. Although with her consent, she knew that the farmer had been left emotionally scarred by the guilt he had felt from being helpless to stop her. Once upon a time, Sanae had abandoned all hope of ever returning to Kanna or seeing Rikichi again, and in her time of despair, she had fallen in love with the Amanushi at the time. He had impregnated her, planting the seed of his despicable clone into her womb, then mysteriously died of seemingly natural causes, leaving Ukyou in charge. She'd been distraught then, as her secure life was once again, thrown into turmoil by the samurai showing up and rescuing her from her abductors.

Kirara shuddered at the things that Sanae had had to go through, silently muttering a prayer to the Gods that she had not been assigned such a horrible fate. She didn't know what she would have done had she been subjected to such dire situations. However, that was all in the past now. All that happened such a long time ago it seemed like it was a different lifetime. Since then, Sanae and Rikichi had worked out their problems, agreeing to put the past behind them and never look back on them. He had been full of remorse, willing to forgive anything because of the joy he had felt at his wife returning, and she had been confused and disturbed, thrown outside her comfort zone.

Eventually, she found her love for him deep inside her heart, hidden and buried so well as she pretended to love the Amanushi everyday. In truth, she had deceived herself into thinking she loved the Amanushi because the pain of being without Rikichi had been too much at the time. She had been lost, alone and more than a little hurt that although it had been her decision to sacrifice herself for the village, Rikichi had never once thought of rescuing her-or so she thought. Once the illusion had been shattered, she had withdrawn into herself, thinking about how Rikichi would react when she told him she could not be his wife because she could not love him. Slowly, however, she realised she only cared about how he would react because she cared about him, because she did not want to hurt him. Over time, she rekindled her love for him from the embers of her broken heart. For his part, he was truly the perfect husband, always providing, never asking anything of her, never pressuring her, and she remembered the man she truly loved. The man she'd agreed to spend the rest of her life with and given herself to.

"Maybe time truly does heal all wounds..." thought Kirara, as she looked at Sanae, who was now supporting and fussing over a very tired Rikichi who had been relieved of his burden by the other villagers. Now, she saw that instead of carrying a deformed person like she had thought before, Rikichi had been carrying two bodies. They both wore cloaks, and as the wind rippled them, she saw that they were both presumably samurai, from the katanas that they carried. One of the figures, borne by Manzo, of all people, wore flowing white clothes, cut in the style of local villagers, yet bearing a nagging resemblance to something she had seen before. From where she stood, she could see that the first figure was a rather aged man, in his 60s or 70s she guessed, with long black hair cascading down his back. The second figure was a leaner, young man who looked like he was in his 20s. She thought he might even be almost the same age as herself. The man's hair was a dark shade of green, the back half held back in a topknot in the traditional style of samurai. He had, however, allowed his fringe to grow unkempt and free, giving him a rather more casual look. His clothes looked dusty and worn, like he had travelled many miles.

As they drew closer, Kirara saw that the first figure had only his sheath but not his sword. She saw that his hands were adorned by guards and gloves, as were his forearms and shins, suggesting an experienced samurai, always prepared for battle. She couldn't shake the nagging feeling that that person was somehow familiar to her, but she brushed it off as mere coincidence. As the second person was being carried into the village, she pushed past a few people, her sense of familiarity increased by the sight of the figure. As the figure was carried past where she stood, she caught a closer look at his face. There was definitely something familiar there, but she just couldn't place it. She furrowed her brow, mentally thinking of all the people with green hair that she'd ever met. Unbeknownst to her, her hand had come up and was outstretched, mimicking the pose she always took when dousing for water with her crystal, that she had passed on to Komachi. It couldn't be helped, since she had been practicing it for years before meeting Kanbei and Katsushiro and having to choose between them, and it was the position in which she was most comfortable thinking and concentrating in.

Deep in thought, she felt her hand brush against something, and she realised she was touching the sheath of the man's katana. She quickly pulled back her hand and was ready to apologise in case someone had seen her do it when her motions caused the worn and tattered cloak encasing the stranger's body to flutter about slightly, and as she got a full view of the katana and its sheath, she let out a loud gasp.

"Do you feel the scent of the battlefield from me now?"

The memories came rushing back to her. The last question he had asked of her before he had left and walked out of her life, and all of their lives. That question that filled her heart with regret. Regret at forcing him into the position where he had had to kill. Regret at pulling a kind man like him down such a dark path, and regret at breaking his heart.

"You told me we would fall together... how those words supported me..."

He had said that night. She knew then how important she had been in his determination to become samurai. Only then, she had not understood how much pain her rejection had caused him. Now, she knew better. The day Kanbei had left the village, she had been out on the rice fields, taking part in the annual celebrations when the rice would be planted. That night, she realised that the two samurai had left. She wept her heart out, a heart forever scarred by the coldness of one Shimada Kanbei, "a shell of a man". Instinctively, she sought out Katsushiro, knowing he would listen unquestioningly and offer her whatever sympathy he could. She wandered around the village, ignoring everything and everyone in search of the young, green hair samurai for 2 hours, before remembering that he had left, long before Kanbei. Left because he couldn't stand the pain of seeing her moon over Kanbei while he pined for her with every fibre of his being.

"I've been trying to protect you, but I've been the one being protected."

That's right, he had always had her safety and her best interests in mind. When no one believed in her, Katsushiro did. When she'd been in danger, Katsushiro would always try his best, pushing himself to the limits for her. To ensure her safety. She remembered the promise. When he had saved her from the onrushing truck in Kouga, then told her he wouldn't let go of her hand, ever, her heart had fluttered. Although she told herself she was attracted to Kanbei at the time, with his powerful sword movements, and the grace he exhibited in controlling those strikes, as well as his kind heart, melting hers, in that instant when he had held her, her heart had warmed up to Katsushiro, and ever since then, her heart had been conflicted and divided into two minds.

In the end, she'd chosen Kanbei over Katsushiro, which led to what seemed like the most disastrous possible chain of events. Katsushiro had left, intending to fight again. That night, before he walked away from Kanna, away from Shichiroji and Kanbei, and away from her, Kanbei had bequeathed his katana to Katsushiro. The same one he had borne during the Great Samurai Wars against the mechanical samurai, so many years ago. The same one whose sheath she was gripping, causing the villager carrying him to turn around and stare at her, a bemused expression on his face.

She motioned for the villager carrying him to stop. Moving closer, she examined the hilt of the katana she had been holding, then parted his long green bangs to study his face. It had the same boyish good looks, only his years of travelling had made him more gaunt and lean, his cheeks hollowed and his skin leathery. Lifting his eyelids, she saw the same emerald green eyes she remembered from so long ago, flickering between levels of unconsciousness. Without a doubt, she now knew who he was. "Katsushiro-sama.."

So lost was she in her thoughts that only when the whole village erupted in cheers did she realise that she had given voice to her thoughts. One of the men beside her had heard her acknowledge him and decided that she would know best if he was one of the legendary seven, then spread the word amongst the others. Whispers became mutters, and slowly, those gave way to gasps of recognition, and then cheering broke out among the villagers. The return of one of their saviours was an unexpected, but joyous occasion, and indeed, it brought many a smile to the farmers' faces. But even as they cheered, they worried for him, their brows furrowing after the initial celebratory whoop that each man had voiced. The same thought was on everyone's mind. What could have happened to cause him to be found unconscious, not five miles from their village? Was there another threat closing in on the village? One thing was for sure. They had to nurse him back to health, if not only that they owed him that much, they also wanted to know if their village was in danger.

Kirara had always been bright, even as a peasant, her mind worked overtime, outstripping the thoughts and worries of the other villagers. She'd given those questions thought, then dismissed them, as she knew they could only be answered by either Katsushiro or his companion. His companion, that was who interested her. She'd found his garments familiar, and recognising Katsushiro had made her wonder if it could be. As her curiosity gave way to hope, she found herself running towards her Grandmother's house, her feet moving on their on volition. She had to get to where they would be taking both Katsushiro and, if she was right, Kanbei, to seek treatment from her Grandmother.

Author's Notes: Well, there you have it! Sorry for the slight cliffhanger. Totally unintentional i tell you! Also, it might be useful to note that i've been reading Samuraiko's work (which is, totally awesome -bows- ), and i'm really intrigued with her character, Nasami, so, with her agreement, i might write a guest chapter or two on her. Again, thank you for reading, and let me know what you think by leaving a review! P's & Q's. Hope you liked it. Laters!